


Children of the Horde

by BestApplePie



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M, Gen, Interracial Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-10-18 23:43:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10627644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BestApplePie/pseuds/BestApplePie
Summary: When Garrosh's policies threaten to destroy the Horde, decisions have to be made, brotherhood is tested and the Sin'dorei have to figure out where they belong.





	1. Rommath's Family Reunion

“Sana’hat.” He raises an eyebrow. The woman was the last person he ever expected to walk through his office door again. “What brings you here?”

“What does it look like? I’m here to beg for my job back.”

She has never been one for eloquent talk, and her time in Orgrimmar didn’t help that. He smirks, well aware that she won’t see it under his mask.

“I thought you never wanted to see anyone of us again?”

Sana’hat rolls her eyes. “Yeah, obviously, with the situation in Orgrimmar I have no other choice. I have mouths to feed, you know I am capable and I know that you can need the man-power, so let’s get this over with already.”

Rommath doesn’t like the way she talks but she is right. Still, he can’t help the urge to bath in her misery a bit longer.

“Situation in Orgrimmar?”

“Oh, don’t play me, you know exactly what I’m talking about. People have been disappearing. A week ago Garrosh had three of my neighbors executed for treason. The guards were looking for their children, too, if we hadn’t hid them in time… I had no choice but to come back here, out of reach of the Kor’kron. You satisfied?” 

He isn’t. In every other scenario he would have enjoyed the woman’s humiliation. Sana’hat is a few years older and while she had been like an older sister to him in their youngest years their relationship changed quickly as he had climbed the Magistrate’s career ladder. Still, he was hurt when she left for Orgrimmar after their people had joined the Horde, without a single world of goodbye apart from the “All your crap that you like to throw around so much… take it and shove it up your powdered asses, I’m never coming back!”-speech she had given the Magistrate. So seeing the woman crawl back should be satisfying.

But she hasn’t returned because the orcs smell is an affront, or because it is too hot or she missed proper architecture. The situation in Orgrimmar is worrying - Garrosh is getting out of control. 

He hands her her contract wordlessly. 

How he hates living in interesting times.

Sana’hat signs and leaves his office without a greeting. He could send her to Zul’Aman. The city is buzzing with their barbaric allies, she’d feel right at home there.

Then again, he doesn’t feel like doing her a favor.

* * *

He regrets having Sana’hat stay in Silvermoon soon enough when the door to his office is burst open. He sighs. At least the fire-proof-paint has paid off.

Still, that door was expensive. 

“Rommath!”

He’s going to deduce that door from her pay, he decides. Maybe that’ll teach her the lesson fire-magic-safety-instructions couldn’t convey.

Sana’hat’s youngest is strapped to her chest, it’s tiny hands pulling at her loose tunic. She pays him no mind as she marches to his desk and slams her fist on the table. 

“They say you want to rejoin the Alliance!”

“I don’t know who told you that but-”

“That’s not important, what are you thinking?”

She doesn’t need to tell him, he already knows what happened. Halduron uniting with some dear friends, drinking too much and her husband prodding him just right. Nasmeth has always had a talent to get information, possessing all the subtelity his wife lacked.

“This is confidential.”

“Half of Silvermoon already knows.”

“This is also none of your business-”

“Don’t give me that! What will happen to Aksa and Tiaji? What do you suggest I do, hm?”

Those children she has taken in… how is this his problem all of a sudden? 

He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “They are just children, I doubt Lor’themar’ll exile them.”

“And our soldiers? You expect them to get in line with those we have fought against for the last years to kill our brothers?”

That’s awfully dramatic here. “May I remind you that we were part of the Alliance not too long ago.”

“Never like we were part of the Horde!” She shakes her head. “The Horde respects us, sees us as one of them… we need to stick together!”

This is rich. “Have you heard what Garrosh did to our people in Pandaria?”

“Garrosh is a problem that will be dealt with… We must not leave the Horde, trust me on this! Our people have fought and bled for the Horde, we have proven ourselves! Do you think we can afford to do the same again?”

He has been fearing that, too. The thought of rejoining the Alliance… it’s repulsive. But news has just reached him a few days ago - Garrosh has the Darkspear detained in Orgrimmar… Citizens who have done nothing wrong but be born of the wrong race. He has already been through that.

And Vol’jin’s death… Rommath is not one to believe rumors easily, but it would be foolish not to suspect Garrosh’s involvement. 

Risking his people succumbing to the same fate would be irresponsible.

“I understand that you fear for the children in your care…”

“No, you don’t! Aksa and Tiaji… their parents were involved in planning a rebellion, Rommath! What do you think will they do to them?” She answers the question before he even has a chance to. “They are going to take these children, and they are going to question them. And whatever they are going to get out of them, it won’t be enough, and they’ll torture them. And if they survive… Aksa will end up slaving for the war effort until she dies and Tiaji… he’s Darkspear, that… Rommath, all those time we’ve spent together when we were children… if any of that means anything to you, if you still have a shred of decency in you… you are going to make sure these children will remain safe with me.”

He should have sent that woman to Northrend. He closes his eyes, rubbing small circles on his temples. He can feel the headache coming.

He should just tell her that he doesn’t care. But after she brought their childhood up he can’t. He thinks back to a time so long ago, weaker men would have wept - before calamity had befallen their people, their lands - when he was still just an orphan with nothing to his name, too young to understand his predicament - when Lord and Lady Sunspell had taken him in out of charity - Sana’hat would defend him against the other children who would shame him for his low birth, against the other students until finally he had found his own courage. 

If not for the mercy her parents had shown him, then to acknowledge that it was the same principles, the same straight forwardness that led her to protect him all those years ago that brought her here to protect these beast children… he nods.

By the Sunwell, does he regret it already...


	2. Halduron Brightwing's Hope

“It’s a close one” Halduron has to keep himself from strutting as he walks up to their targets. “But I’m unbeatable!” 

Nasmeth just shrugs, still smiling, as he starts to pull the arrows from the target. “It’s the target that matters,” he says, “Be it Scourge or the ugly head of an Amani… or someone else.”

Halduron raises an eyebrow. “Hope you not talking about me?” He grins.

“Something is coming, Halduron. You’ll see.”

His voice has lost its playful tone. Halduron does not know if this is the right time to prod - he has never been good when it came to that. “Something to do with what brought you guys back here? Then I’m glad. I missed you, my friend.”

“You miss everyone.”

“Just makes one returning special.” 

Because most of the others are dead, but he does not want to say that. Halduron isn’t the only one who tasted loss these past years. They all have. 

“How was it? Living in Orgrimmar?”

Nasmeth shrugs. “Nice. Different. Orgrimmar… used to be buzzing with life, it was easy to forget.”

Used to? “And now?” He regrets the question as soon as it leaves his lips. 

“Now history repeats itself and a prince has betrayed us.” Nasmeth smiles but it does not reach his eyes. He’s bitter - angry - but Halduron knows not as disappointed as he should be.

Nasmeth had followed Kael’thas not out of loyalty, at least not to the crown. He had kissed his lover goodbye and he had abandoned the prince with much more ease, returning as one of his slayers. He remembered the days after Kael’thas had been defeated, the dread that filled the streets of Silvermoon and Nasmeth apathy towards the fate of the last royal.

“A king does not matter - his people do. We will go on, with or without him.” He had shrugged and smiled. “See it as a chance to move on, change for the better.”

Halduron knows little about the man. He knows that Nasmeth grew up poor and had spend some time in the stockades for robbery - that by the time the scourge had invaded they were desperate enough to free anyone just so they could fight - and that Nasmeth survived against all odds, showing enough promise to join Kael’thas’ expedition to Outland and after his return the Farstriders. For some reason, he had wanted to be the other’s friend. Maybe because Nasmeth didn’t seem to have any friends - nobody disliked him per se, but there was something about the man that made him seem lonely. 

“How is it now?”

“Like a land of mice ruled by cats.”

Halduron does not know what to answer - if he should offer his condolences for a home lost or wellwishes for a new start. Nasmeth doesn’t seem like he could use either. 

Neither would sound sincere considering Nasmeth knows of the talks with the Alliance now and Halduron’s opinion on the matter. Nasmeth hasn’t shown any reaction, but Halduron can imagine his feelings on that one. A man that spent the last years slaughtering Alliance in Kalimdor and living with the Horde, adopting two of their children… Halduron does not need to ask. Their people joining the Alliance will not make it easy for him.

Halduron and his stupid, drunken babbling. Of course he looks forward to reuniting with their brethen who decided to stay with the Alliance - they were one people after all - but did he have to tell that to the man? And his wife knows now, too… and he bets his ass she has talked to Rommath. The crow is giving him these looks but he hasn’t said anything - yet. Halduron knows it’s coming.

Rommath has been opposed to joining the Alliance from the start, unwilling to forgive his imprisonment in Dalaran. But even he has been forced to admit that the current status is unacceptable. Garrosh is unacceptable and it is either him or the Sin’dorei leaving the Horde. And Garrosh doesn’t seem like he’ll give up the mantle of warchief anytime soon. 

Halduron has never liked the Horde much. In fact, just like most people, he had been utterly horrified to learn of Lor’themar’s decision. To ally with those that had attacked them - the orcs, the undead, and their ancestral enemies - trolls, of all people - it didn’t just seem ridiculous, it seemed insane.

Somehow though it worked out and after all these years they had changed. Halduron still doesn’t like the Horde per se - it does stand between his people’s unity after all - but his world view has… matured, maybe.

He has come to respect them. The orcs that had once attacked them understood their desperation, their addiction, their plight. Soon the sin’dorei had begun to understand them, too - and the picture of the bloodthirsty monster became the picture of a people who paid for a mistake with their free will.

The Forsaken were closest to them and for all the destruction they had wrought under the Lich King’s control… the amoung of their own people’s rotting corpses as well as their support in the Ghostlands made it easy to forgive. Forgetting was impossible, so compared to the other Horde cities, despite its proximity, Undercity has stayed little but a waypoint to pass through. He is pretty sure the Forsaken prefer it that way anyhow.   
The Tauren were the easiest to befriend despite their monstrous appearance. Not only because there was no past that stood between their people - but their gentle, friendly nature made it impossible to dislike them. They were the first who, upon hearing of the death scar, sent druids and shamans to aid them. He smiles, thinking of the huge beasts. He still remembers Harene Plainwalker, one of the first, arriving, and how within a week the children would greet her by name and run up to her happily. 

Even the Goblins, the greedy little bastards seem to have their positive sides. He hasn’t met one he liked personally but he’s heard stories. 

The Darkspear were the hardest to get used to. At first, they were just the trolls, and that was it. Of course the Farstriders saw the differences - how the Amani beasts make the Darkspear look dainty in comparison, how different the Amani’s Zandalari sounds to the Darkspear’s - but the similarities remained, and what guarantee did they have that the Darkspear wouldn’t side with their Amani cousins? 

The Darkspear proved to be just as cruel and vicious as their forest-dwelling relatives - only this time it was to his people’s advantage. After Zul’Aman even the most stubborn Farstrider had to make some concessions. At the very least that the Darkspear really didn’t like the Amani.

Everything that happened to them - the Scourge, Kael’thas’ betrayal, the Mana addiction and the Fel - all these years of fighting together and dying together with the Horde - Halduron knows that his people have changed. He is not a fool.

Halduron himself has changed, too. 

He catches Nasmeth staring at him, the man’s slightly fel-tainted pupils wide like he’s watching prey. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Something on my face?”

“I asked you a question.”

“Sorry, I was…”

Nasmeth smiles. “Thinking of important state business?”

Halduron nods. 

“You have become awfully responsible since I’ve left for Orgrimmar, haven’t you?”

“So have you” Halduron shrugs. “Who would have thought you’d ever become a father… twice and with the same woman at that.”

Nasmeth’s smile grows broader but his eyes colder. “Fate has been kind to us.”

Speak for yourself, Halduron wants to say, but instead he nods. While Nasmeth has spend the last years with his wife, rolling around Orgrimmar’s dust, having children and making friends, Halduron had to handle Silvermoon’s problems day in, day out, only to spend the nights alone, crying after friends lost to the scourge, crying after those Lor’themar’s decision to leave the Alliance had ripped from him.

Rilianah most of all. Her departure had ripped a hole into his mind - his heart - his soul - that couldn’t be healed. 

Sometimes, when he closes his eyes and concentrates hard, he can almost see her. Her sweet smile - her hair the color of rich, dark wood - her unmarred, light skin - her blue eyes accented by the blue shimmer in her pupils. 

Then he remembers how her smile vanished when she discovered the green tint in his own pupils. 

And after Lor’themar’s decision was announced she would never smile at him again.

“My brother is married to a human, what am I supposed to do? Never see him again?” 

He was foolish to think she’d chose him over the only family she had left. One day, she had simply departed for Stormwind and never returned.

He wonders what she is doing now. How she’s faring. Maybe… maybe they still have a chance.

If they rejoin the Alliance. 

But he knows it’s not just the crow standing in the way. If they leave the Horde… will their people be divided once again? 

Not like Halduron can’t understand on some level. While he never liked Sylvanas - even when the woman was still alive - he learned a great deal about the other leaders. Facing them as enemies… he knows it will be hard to do so. 

Vol’jin, Thrall, Baine - he respects them. But Vol’jin is dead, Thrall has made way for Garrosh and Baine won’t be strong enough to stop that maniac.

They have no choice.

And in the long run, what does it matter? Fel may have shortened their life-spans - those who fought alongside the beasts might die soon enough. Some travel-plans might be foiled, but instead of Orgrimmar, they will see Stormwind, instead of Thunder Buff and the Echo Isles Darnassus, instead of Bilgewater Harbor that giant dump, the Exodar and instead of that glorified sewer they’ll get to visit Ironforge. Sounds like a good deal to him. 

Sure, he’s going to miss a few things, too. He’s grown fond of Ikaj’s special Echo Isles Kebob and that one soup he can’t remember the name of. Also those dumplings the Orc in murder row sells. Always gives him diarrhea but so worth it. 

Not worth missing up the chance to reunite with their people tough. The Alliance is strong - surely it has enough to offer to make up for what they lose by leaving the Horde. It doesn’t have to be like it was last time. This time they can form a true friendship with the others. They aren’t the same people anymore. 

Things can finally be mended. 

If they don’t cause another rift between their people. He eyes Nasmeth, putting the training gear away. If he can convince Nasmeth, he can convince anyone. 

“Care for a drink later?”

“Sana’hat expects me tonight”

Doesn’t matter. He has time. He’ll get Nasmeth to see. Nasmeth and all the others like him.

Their people will be alright. And maybe Rilianah and him will be, too.


	3. Rommath's Afternoon Excursion

He looks around the small home. There’s scrolls on a low table and dirty clothes in a corner. On the small balcony matrasses and sheets air out. There is no kitchen - just a fireplace with a pot hanging over it. The troll child - Tiaji - is playing with Sana’hat’s youngest, Eileahn, chatting away in Zandalari as he tries to get the baby to sit on his own.

Sana’hat’s oldest, Taneilah, and the orcling fold the blankets while discussing simple arcane spells. He smiles, listening to the children complain about the difficulty of concentrating on channeling the arcane. So much like his class mates, so long ago. 

Sana’hat offers him a drink and a seat on the cushions. They look old and they probably are. Her parents would be horrified if they knew that this was how their daughter would end up one day but the Sunspell family had lost a lot to the Scourge and what Sana’hat had left she had sold before moving to Orgrimmar. 

Still, she doesn’t look unhappy. She smiles as the troll toddles over to her and hands her the baby before curling up next to her, burying his face in her tunic. 

“You should have kept your family home at least,” he says, “This hole is too small for your children.”

Sana’hat shrugs. “It’s enough, I don’t know if I would want to live in that place now anyway… it’s too big… Mother and Father, my aunts and uncles, my cousins… their friends, my friends... there always used to be somebody there, you know… and now all these people… they are gone. Nobody’s left but me, Nasmeth and… I guess you, sort of.”

He ignores the almost insulting remark towards his person in favor of the memories she has evoked before. The people he had been so close to… the trials their people had to face had plucked them one by one - the Sunspells were a family of battlemages and they had fought with all they had to protect the Sunwell and their people. 

“How did you survive anyway? We thought you dead.”

Sana’hat shrugs. “I was about to die when something hit me and I found myself somewhere in the woods with a few others… I think one of my cousins must have tried to save us but didn’t make it himself… it was close to Aunt Unilaeia’s summer house… took us a few weeks to find civilization again.” She snorts. “Or what was left of it anyway.”

“And those that survived with you?”

“Outland was their grave.”

That one is on him, partly. He had resented her back then when she chose to stay on Azeroth and not follow their prince. If only more had been as sensible.

“Why did you want me to come here?”

“We need to wait for Nasmeth to come home and watch the children, then I’ll get us there.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Get us where?”

“You’ll see.”

* * *

As he steps through the portal, the first thing he notices is the change in temperature. She could have told him to bring a coat.

He looks around. He is in a small, circular room with wooden walls. There are crates standing around. He takes a look at a few open ones - they are filled with items ranging from troll masks to fel-infused crystals, to various totems and other artifacts as well as books.

“A storage room?” he asks.

Sana’hat closes the portal after she steps through. “It’s more or less a room for everything, but most of them just use it like that, yeah.”

He raises his eyebrows. “And who might they be?”

“The local arcane association and friends.” She hands him an old looking coat with orcish patterns woven into the fabric. It smells like somebody died in it.

“Surely you don’t expect me to wear that?”

“Well, if you’d rather catch a cold…” She shrugs before putting a similar looking -and smelling - coat over her shoulders. “It was good enough for Northrend.”

So someone did die in it then. Couldn’t they at least have given it a washing?

“What are we doing in Northrend?”

“Zul’Aman.” She corrects him. “That’s Nasmeth’s old undercoat, you’d freeze to death like this in Northrend.”

She smiles. “Makes you smell more like a man though.”

“You mean more like an animal.” he frowns. What are they doing in Zul’Aman anyway? Shouldn’t she drag Halduron on that trip? 

“Heroes died in this coat, show some respect.” 

He knew it. She shrugs and pulls a curtain aside, revealing wooden stairs leading down. “Well, one hero died and another got crippled. We didn’t get to wash the clothes that often, getting them dry was really difficult, you know, and in Northrend you can’t afford to be picky about a few stains.”

Her explanation only serves to increase his disgust. He’s going to take a thorough bath after he’s gotten out of this. Maybe burn his clothes. He can feel the vermin crawling over him already.

“So why did you bring me here?” This better be good. He follows her down the wooden steps into another circular room, this one bigger. There are thick rugs on the floor as well as blankets and pillows. In the middle there is a fire pit, still radiating warmth though it has already been extinguished. 

Unlike the first room this one has windows. But through the condensation he can only see murky grey outside. 

“I want you to understand the situation. Two of my cousins died in Dalaran’s dungeons - we are on the same page when it comes to the Alliance.”

He nods. He can still remember their faces. The twin brothers - Sinath and Mirath - had been arguing last time he saw them. He wonders if they ever got to make up. 

“I need you to be on the same page with me on this here, too. You have Lor’themar’s ear, after all.”

He’s unsure what to make of this. And what does she expect anyway? Lor’themar rarely paid his opinion much heed. He didn’t do so when Aethas - that brat - wanted to establish the Sunreavers in Dalaran, he didn’t do so when troops were sent to Northrend, he didn’t do so when he adviced against getting involved in Pandaria.

“The situation in the Horde is getting bad. Orgrimmar is no longer safe… more and more people are disappearing, people are getting rounded up… there’s executions every week…”

“You know that there is nothing we can do about that. We are not powerful enough to stop Garrosh. We need to look out for ourselves now.”

“Yes, alone we are not powerful enough.” She says and before he can ask what exactly she is insinuating she opens the door and steps outside. He follows her into the heavy rain, pulling the coat’s hood up. 

They walk in silence for a while - the winds tear at them and the rain turned some of the roads muddy, making it difficult to wade through.   
This is the first time he’s ever been to Zul’Aman. He never bothered with the city before even after they had taken it. Still, now that he is here he can’t help to look at the place with some curiosity. 

The giant stone architecture is accompanied by comparetively smaller huts made out of wood. He spots the occasional Sin’dorei design painted on the walls, next to the more alien looking trollish ones. The paths are lit up by enchanted flames of various colors and from some of the huts he can hear music. 

It is not particularly busy. There is a group of Farstriders making their way past them and some cloaked figures now and then. An Orc couple passes them with their wolves. A she-troll greets Sana’hat before taking a different turn, another troll almost bumps into him as he hurries down the street. 

“There’s a lot less heads hanging around than last time,” Sana’hat notes. “They cut back on the bone-decoration, too. Maybe they are running out of Amani to kill.” 

“You didn’t take me here for a tour of the city I hope.”

“Yes, yes, there is a point to this. Geez, just be patient for a little while.”

Somewhere, children laugh. He turns towards the sound, spotting a few small elflings and troll children playing in the puddles. 

“The Siame Quashi brought their families, too?” 

Sana’hat nods. “Some did. Some children were born here. Then the merchants and their families… Soldiers attract business. New cities do so, too.“

She shrugs. “There will be more now.”

He raises an eyebrow. “How so?”

“I told you times have changed and the situation in Orgrimmar is unpleasant. People are leaving.”

He imagines Orgrimmar deserted with only Garrosh and his Kor’kron left. He almost smiles before he remembers what that could mean for Quel’Thalas. If Lor’themar decides on leaving the Horde… this could be used as a stronghold against them. 

“We are also bringing the children here. Save them from being pulled into this mess. It’s bad enough he’s punishing the adults for being born Darkspear but the children... “ She shakes her head as she comes to a halt in front of a huge gate. She greets the guard before he signals for the gates to open.

“A lot of orphans, too. The matron cooperates with us, we’re trying to get as much out as we can. Garrosh spits on the graves of our heroes, making their children slave away for his ridiculous conquest-fantasies. For fucks sake, can you imagine that before the Cataclysm we almost had a peace-agreement in Ashenvale?”

“Wait a moment-” He knows she’s dumping all this information on him to confuse him, make him not question what she’s just said. But he isn’t a young boy anymore.

“You are transporting children from Orgrimmar into our lands? Children that Garrosh ordered to work for the war effort? His citizens?”

She frowns. “He’s not treating them like citizens.”

“Are you aware that what you are doing here could be treason?” Who else is involved? Who else knows? By the Sunwell, what is he supposed to do about this?

“Zul’Aman is planning a rebellion, Rommath.” She turns to him as the gates open, looking him right in the eye. “And we are not alone. The Tauren, the Raventusk, the Darkspear, various guilds all accross Horde lands are joining us. Once we are ready we will get Orgrimmar back and remove that tyrant from the seat of Warchief. And we want you to join us.”


	4. Lor'themar Theron's After Work Hours

“So how was your day?” Halduron doesn’t look at him, instead he watches the strong drink in front of him. Lor’themar doesn’t answer until he has gulped half of it down.

“Long. Very long.”

That’s all of his days now. He remembers back then when he was a ranger days would be so damn short - he’d be out in the woods and it would be dark in no time. 

He can’t say the same about his office. He hates his office.

“How was your day?”

“Same.”

He wonders what Halduron of all people has to complain about. Lor’themar would murder to be in the man’s place. 

Damn Kael’thas for putting him in this position and then going crazy and dying. Now he’s stuck forever. 

If Sylvanas hadn’t become such a bitch he could have just let her lead them, dead or no, he wouldn’t care. But she has changed. There were times she would have - where she did give everything for Quel’Thalas. Now she’s willing to use them, their people, like she uses the undead milling around her - pawns for her own goals.

To think he once looked up to her. To think he even once - no. The thought disgusts him. 

He won’t feel sorry if he ever has to take up arms against that corpse, that’s for sure. 

The other ones… he has to admit he’d feel bad. Not against Garrosh per se, but the Orcs as people aren’t that bad. And the Tauren. Hell, even the Darkspear seem to have their good sides, dangerous and crazy as they might be, they did help out in Zul’Aman. 

Then again, from what he’s hearing there might be no Darkspear left by the time it’ll come to that. The thought leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

The whole affair does. He has always hated politics. But this isn’t about what he wants, is it? He has to do what is best for the country that’s been entrusted to him and who else should do it?

 

Before the restoration of the Sunwell he might have considered Liadrin, but now the woman is too caught up in her whole redemption-thing to be trusted with the future of their country. Politics is about making smart choices - not righteous ones. He’s learned that one early on. 

And Halduron… the man is too caught up in his personal problems. Lor’themar can’t even call it relationship problems anymore - the woman has been out of his life for years. She might be married, with kids, dead, undead or everything and they wouldn’t know. If Halduron had a say they would have never left the Alliance in the first place or at the very least rejoined them the day before yesterday.

That would leave Rommath, and if Lor’themar wasn’t stuck with the position of Regent Lord he’d call him the crow, too. Lor’themar doesn’t particularly like Rommath. He respects him, sure, but he doesn’t like him. That alone would make him a perfect candidate to saddle with that awful position if it weren’t for Rommath’s past suggestions. None were very nice. Some bordered on tyrannical. Of course they were all sensible and Lor’themar had to side with him on many occasions for practicality, but nowadays he isn’t sure if their people could handle Rommath’s demand for discipline. 

Or rather if Rommath could handle their people’s negligence. Maybe Lor’themar cares more for the man’s well being than he thought. 

By the Sunwell, the alcohol has already gotten to him. He looks over to Halduron, already working on his third drink. The man probably has a problem.

Who doesn’t nowadays. They are still sucking on fel-crystals in Murder Row and he’s not even willing to think about the western part of the city. 

He orders another drink, just in case he runs out of this one too soon.

“Lor’themar” 

He turns around slightly. Vareesa Dawnsinger. He didn’t recognize her voice. Has it been that long? 

What is she doing here anyway?

“Shouldn’t you be in Orgrimmar? Please don’t tell me there is a problem. I have enough of those.”

She sits down next to him before ordering “the strongest you have”. He doesn’t need more on his plate. He wants her to disappear so badly. Maybe if he closes his eyes…

“I just can’t take it anymore” her voice rings in his ears. “I’m not going back. I refuse. I quit. I’ve been insulted for the last time. I’m done!” 

So much for that.

“Can’t you just pretend you didn’t hear it? You know how orcs are with diplomacy…”

“It’s not the orcs. It’s very specifically Garrosh, Malkorok and the new Kor’kron. They act unbearably!”

There is an awkward silence. He doesn’t know what to tell her. He has never seen her like this - he remembers her way back when she was still tending to the wounded during the second war and the ceremony establishing the Ministry of Public Health under her leadership years later. She is a hero in her own right. 

Sometimes, when he lies awake at night, he thinks about the injustice he has done, and sometimes her. Sending her to Orgrimmar to get rid of her - the pressure all the Ministries put on him had been too much - maybe it was the wrong call. She deserves better.

“Garrosh will be the end of the Horde!” She roars. “That orc is too dumb to live! What on Azeroth was Thrall thinking?!”

“Be quiet!” he hisses, “That’s not something to say in public!”

Then again, what does it matter at this point. There’s rumors about his talks with the Alliance already. He wonders when those will reach Garrosh.

“I can say what I want!” She screeches. She has obviously been drinking before she got here. “Orgrimmar is such a shithole! Things were getting better under Thrall, but then Garrosh comes along and everything turns to shit! I’ve had healers organized, you know how much work that was? We were having exchange between healing-organizations in Orgrimmar, Silvermoon and Undercity! Then Malkorok comes along, says we are suspicious! We were planning to finally install a sewer system! So many motivated, talented people working together! Do you know what that would have done for the public? But when we wanted to realize our plans we were blown off! Suddenly it’s a security risk! Then we try to get some clean drinking water organized, you know what they tell us? There is no money for our picky tastes! We have the mud-water-disease making the rounds every three years, children, sick people, old people, pregnant women, they are all dropping like flies, dying in their own shit, and we don’t have the money to do something about it? He tells me I have no proof. I show him studies we’ve made. He tells me that’s a coincidence. I tell him we would have had more if he hadn’t sent the people doing the studies to die in Ashenvale. He tells me they need Ashenvale. I tell them they need proper drinking water. He calls it culling the weak! Yeah, because babies deserve to die because they are weak, right?!”

He sighs. “What is your point, exactly?”

“My point? What is my point? Orgrimmar is ruled by idiots and it’s the people that have to suffer! You know what happened to most of my guys? Their bodies are feeding the worms in Ashenvale, in Pandaria! For what? Wood! Gold! Garrosh’s twisted glory! And my apprentices that are too young to fight? Instead of working on their studies he sends those bright minds to assemble weapons for his war! He’s ruining the future of the Horde, just like his father did! As if those poor souls they had aged with magic running around, who are not able to form proper sentences. aren’t enough warning already! Now he produces the next generation who will only be fit for peon-work, if they survive that long at all!”

“You do know that I sent you there as an ambassador, do you?” Lor’themar frowns. What has that woman been doing all those years?

“Oh, then I have an important message for you, Regent Lord!” She mock bows and he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t know her like this - she used to be so calm and collected. Passionate, yes, but never aggressive. Never so angry.

“Garrosh is burning the Horde’s resources faster than they can be produced. Durotar was dirt poor before, now he’s taxing farmers so badly they are starving. The economy is in the gutter because of the mass conscription. The Tauren already get taxed hard and Darkspear assets are being seized left and right. It won’t be long until he’ll start increasing his demands towards Silvermoon. And what are you going to do then, hm? Think you can keep up with it? Durotar sure can’t.”

He closes his eyes. He can’t let that happen. He has to do something - he can’t stay in this Horde. Not with Garrosh as Warchief. There is no other choice.

He has to join the Alliance. It’s the only way to save his people.

Before it is too late.


	5. Rommath's Extended Afternoon Excursion

He can’t believe it. He can’t believe that woman. That awful, crude, sneaky, idiotic person. He should have known that dealing with Sana’hat only brings headache. It has been that way ever since he joined the academy.

But now she has really outdone herself. He is utterly speechless. His first instinct was to just open a portal back to Silvermoon and forget this day ever happened. Of course, that isn’t really an option.

Now he has to deal with this. A rebellion against Garrosh and neither Lor’themar nor Halduron have any idea. But he has now - that makes Silvermoon complicit if he doesn’t end this, does it?

And why does she saddle him with this information? What does she expect him to do? Tell Lor’themar to join in on their folly? If Garrosh finds out… what will happen? 

But what if the rebellion succeeds… 

It would solve the whole unpleasant issue of joining the Alliance. If the Alliance doesn’t seize the opportunity and destroys them while they are busy fighting in Orgrimmar, that is.

This situation… there is just no possible outcome that doesn’t make him want to ask Songweaver for a spare mana bomb and obliterate this whole damn city the moment he sets foot in Silvermoon again.

“You know, we are meeting with the Zul’Aman leadership. You might want to prepare mentally.”

Is she serious? 

“Have you lost your mind? First you drag me here, put me in that ratty coat, involve me in treason without any warning or consent and now this?”

She shrugs. She has the audacity to shrug. “You seem to be taking it rather well. I knew I could count on you.”

“Count on me for what? You expect me to promise these people that’ll Silvermoon will join in on your lunacy, then head straight back to Lor’themar, tell him to screw the Alliance, that we’re going to join a ragtag group led by a bunch of idiots who obviously can’t handle the mountain air in Zul’Aman in their quest to topple the Warchief of the Horde?”

Sana’hat takes a few moments to look at him. Is she thinking? No, it would be ridiculous to get his hopes up that he managed to talk any sense into that woman.

“Yes.”

Once again not expecting anything has spared him disappointment.

“And have you just once in your whole lunacy considered Quel’Thalas? The risk you are putting us in?”

She shrugs before turning around and continuing on the paved way. “You care for your country, I get that, but this hasn’t been my home for a long time. I do what I think is right, Rommath, for my people. And the Horde will always be my people.”

“This is ridiculous!” He’s almost shouting now. She’s costing him his last nerve! 

Sana’hat doesn’t reply and he can’t deny that he’s grateful or she might have forced him to do something he’d possibly regret in the future. He follows her in silence. He will listen what the others in this affair have to say for themselves, then he will decide what to do with them.

He has to control his anger, he reminds himself. This isn’t about how Sana’hat does whatever she wants again or how she treats him like a fool. This is about Quel’Thalas. He has to do what is best for the country. Right now that means no rash decisions. He’s going to see what these people have done so far, how much of a chance they stand. Quel’Thalas is all that matters. If that means joining this circus, so be it. If it means obliterating the closest he has left to family… He takes a long look at the woman walking in front of him. He’s already sacrificed the prince. Kael’thas, whom he considered his only friend. He’s crossed that bridge long ago. 

He continues to follow her in silence. It’s a long way and he wonders why she couldn’t have opened the portal somewhere closer to their destination - up a long flight of stairs and through a garden, past a fountain, another long flight of stairs, another gate, through a hall, another flight of stairs - he is starting to feel those damn stairs in his calves - through some corridors, another damn flight of stairs, into a room.

“And please refrain from insulting our Raventusk allies this time, Ya’ji’sha,” the blond woman speaks with a lisp. She would have been beautiful had it not been for the large scar crossing her face diagonally, disfiguring her. There is a trail of salvia running down her mouth where the scar runs over her lips, showing her teeth even when she’s trying to keep it closed. Maybe back then, before the Scourge, he would have been shocked to see a face like that, but now only mild disgust remains. 

The she-troll’s face remains impassive. “I wasn’t insulting them.”

“Whatever you said upset them greatly. We don’t have the budget to buy another table.”

“Rommath’s here,” Sana’hat’s announcment is as unceremonial as he expected. He raises an eyebrow. The group - the disfigured woman, the she-troll and a man with braided hair get up to greet him.

“Grand Magister,” the woman nods. “It’s an honor. If I may introduce us, this,” she inclines her head towards the she-troll, “is Ya’ji’sha, the current leader of the Siame Quashi. This,” she inclines her head towards the man, “is Loril Dawnstalker, the current commander of the Farstriders here in Zul’aman. They are in charge of the city. I am Tahaalda Brightwing, Loril’s second in command.”

“Brightwing.” That name makes him cringe. “Any relation to the Ranger General?”

“Too far to be of any importance, Grand Magister.”

He nods, pleased despite himself. After enduring Sana’hat’s crudeness all day someone following the basic rules of politeness is refreshing. A Farstrider carrying the name of Brightwing at that. How unexpected.

“Has Sana’hat explained the situation?” Loril asks and before he can answer he turns his head towards her. That rude prick. “Has he agreed?”

“Not yet.”

He snorts. She sounds so sure of herself. It annoys him - Sana’hat has always been arrogant. She hasn’t changed at all.

“Let us sit down first, have some tea, discuss the whole thing. I’m sure we will come to an understanding.” Tahaalda is the only one to wait for him to take a seat before sitting herself. “The tea should be ready soon. Now, I take it Sana’hat has been very direct about our intentions. Naturally, you are hesitant.”

He nods. The woman is misplaced among the other idiots. If she wasn’t hideous to look at he might have even ignored her profession and felt some attraction towards her.

“We want you to know that this isn’t some folly we just decided to engage in. We have been planning this for months and so have our allies in Kalimdor. Garrosh is leading the Horde down a dangerous path. His ambitions are bleeding us dry and they will leave us vulnerable to our enemies if we don’t act. And ever since Vol’jin,” she stops for a few moments, “Ever since Vol’jin disappeared Garrosh has been out of control. He has turned against his own people. We would not be surprised if the rumors are true and he really had the Darkspear Chieftain assassinated. A pity we can’t say the same about other rumors.”

He knows what she is talking about. The rumor that the troll still lives has made its way to Silvermoon and was met with various reactions. Rommath chose not to pay much attention to it. Rumors are a bad source to go by.

“Bwonsamdi may have taken Vol’jin, but we live on.” The she-troll shrugs, her voice even. Her Thalassian is a bit accented, though surprisingly good. “We are not fools led by wishes and we are not weaklings who depend on saviors. And we are not going to roll over and give up just because one man is dead.”

He nods. It took him a long time to understand that. Still, he can feel his lips pressing together. He is not sure if it is sadness or shame. Kael’thas. He had put his faith in the prince - put his faith in his friend - and all he reaped was bitter disappointment. He is not sure wether to resent the she-troll or admire her for her apathy towards her leader’s death. 

“Well spoken, Ya’ji’sha.” Loril smiles. “Our people have a lot in common. Like we Sin’dorei raise from the ashes you Darkspear never die.” 

She nods. “This rebellion will happen. Even if we die, others will take our place.”

“But will your rebellion succeed? Are you strong enough to beat Garrosh and withhold a possible Alliance invasion should they decide to seize the opportunity and strike?” Rommath looks at Tahaalda and feels a tad of disappointment when Loril answers.

“We have thought about that, too,” Loril answers. “We know that we can beat Garrosh though it will cost many lives. The Alliance… to be honest, I think if they stand united against us we will stand no chance.”

The she-troll nods before she continues where Loril left off. “We have had heavy losses these last years. Our troops in Stranglethorn are containing this annoying menace Zul created and that has saved the humans the losses we had fighting them. Northrend has not been kind on us either and the bodies are piling up in Pandaria. And Garrosh’s invason of Ashenvale has cost many lives - as if the Cataclysm itself wasn’t enough. The Goblins have since then joined us, but I’ll be frank, I doubt this Gallywix character can be trusted. Sylvanas may aid us, but she is busy with her own wars so we can’t count on her.”

“So basically, what my beautiful friend here is trying to say is…” Loril leans back as he speaks and Rommath notices with disgust how he eyes the she-troll a little too long, making it obvious he was very serious when he complimented the beast. “If the Alliance attacks us we are fucked either way. In fact, if we don’t stop the wars with the Alliance, we will be very fucked. And to stop the wars, Garrosh must die. Maybe Sylvanas, too, but definitely Garrosh.” 

“The only way the Alliance will not annihilate us is by removing Garrosh and making peace. That way we can finally focus on rebuilding and regaining our strength. The Horde… we all just need a break.” Tahaalda sighs, rubbing her temples. She is right - they are all wary. Rommath can feel it in his bones - he’s felt it for a long time.

“We have heard about the talks with the Alliance, too, and we understand that Lor’themar is considering rejoining.”

He presses his lips together tightly. If Halduron could have kept his trap shut - and if Sana’hat’s wrenched husband could have just kept to his own cursed business…

“There is a reason I brought you here, Rommath, and not anyone else.” Sana’hat pauses as a lanky troll enters the room and serves them tea. No flavor Rommath can recognize. 

“You get that joining the Alliance isn’t an option. After what happened to our people… what they did to us. If it wasn’t for the Alliance the prince would have never gone astray.”

He’d like to tell her to shut it - that she never cared about their prince anyway - but it wouldn’t be appropriate with these people around. 

And what’s worse, she is right, even if she is just trying to manipulate him. If the Alliance hadn’t betrayed them then the prince would have never agreed to ally himself with Lady Vashj, that snake. 

“You are not going to forget just like that. And you know that just like we can’t trust them, they will never trust us. They never did. After the destruction wrought on us by the Scourge, what did the Dwarves, the masters in constructions, send us? A spie! And the Kal’dorei? Used our weakness to establish military bases in the Ghostlands, to control us, their cousins, instead of the Scourge!”

Loril nods before continuing. “Where was their assistence when the Scourge attacked us in the first place? Where was Dalaran? Busy preparing the prison for our people? Why did we stand against the Scourge alone? Why didn’t they warn us earlier? Because they had left us! Those fairy tales these old geezers liked to tell about humans that aided us against the Amani… these people have died long ago. We’ve been on our own for a long time.”

“Regardless of that,” Tahaalda pauses a moment to wipe away the salvia dripping down her chin. “The Alliance will always view us as fairweather allies. If we rejoin the Alliance we will always be placed under those traitors that have left us in favor of staying with the humans… and you know how they feel about us. There will be no reunion with them. We have fought with them against the Amani. Some have rejoined us, yes, some have friendly feelings towards us, but the majority only joined in on the fighting because they think killing us and taking over Quel’Thalas in the future would be easier than taking it from the Amani and their allies once they have established themselves there.” 

Loril snorts. Tahaalda ignores him - it’s obvious that she’s used to her superior’s unprofessional behavior. Only the Farstriders under a fool like Halduron would put someone like him in a higher position than someone like her.

“And where would we be without the Horde now?” Loril continues. “They stood by us, and we need to stand by them. This is a test of loyalty. Like the Darkspear chose us over the other trolls,” he nods to the she-troll, who returns the gesture, “We need to stand by the Horde. Not the tyrant that is trying to destroy it, but its people.”

He can’t accuse them of not having anything to speak for their cause. He can’t even say that he isn’t inclined to side with them - it sounds almost too good to be true. Not having to bow to neither Garrosh nor the Alliance… 

But he’s already had too good to be true. Back then it cost them their prince and so many lives. 

Still, he can’t just decline, not when it might be the only way that rids them of Garrosh without having to grovel in front of the humans. He needs time to think about it.

“I can neither agree nor disagree with you at this point,” he says, slowly but firmly. “I will think about your proposal and come to a decision in the privacy of my home. I will let you know.”

That doesn’t seem to please them, judging by the look they give him, though Tahaalda nods politely. He gets up, indicating that he is about to leave.

“We trust your discretion,” Tahaalda says before standing up, too. The she-troll and Loril follow suit.

As they take their leave, Rommath can feel the rage quelling up in him again. How dare Sana’hat pull that on him. How dare she put him in this position. 

“For now, don’t tell Lor’themar and Halduron. Especially not Halduron.”

“You are involving me in your treachery as if I agreed to it.”

“Won’t you?” Sana’hat shrugs. “Isn’t this the opportunity you’ve been waiting for?”

“You call this an opportunity, I call it a risk.”

“Since when are you afraid of risks?”

“Since when are you so willing to take them?” He stops and waits for her to do so as well. “After all, you stayed behind.”

He regrets saying it the moment the words leave his mouth. Sana’hat doesn’t seem faced. “Is this about Outland? You know I don’t believe in fairy tales and I didn’t then, either.”

“You never believed in the prince,” he says, “and you didn’t believe in me.”

“Was I wrong?” She raises her eyebrows. “I believed in our people instead. Unlike Nasmeth I had a choice and I made the right one. Don’t fault me because you didn’t.”

She continues walking without looking back. And after a few moments, he follows. It makes him hate her - how she makes him feel like a little boy again. How she’s right.

They are silent for a long time. 

“Not everything you did was a bad choice, you know,” Sana’hat says, “I still think you made the right call with the fel and that Naaru. It was the most sensible decision at the time.”

He can feel something tug in his chest. He doesn’t want to talk - or think, for that matter - about all that. At the same time, hearing someone say he wasn’t wrong - it feels soothing. He does not get that often.

He remembers when they were children and he would lean his head on her warm shoulder.

“And in the end you pulled through. Even Nasmeth gives you that and my, does he hate you.”

He frowns. What has he ever done to that brat? If anything Rommath be the one to hate him for seducing his adoptive sister, a woman way, way out of that scoundrel’s league. It borders on an insult. Instead he has graciously decided to ignore him and now this?

“Speaking of Nasmeth, I promised him to bring dinner, we need to make a turn here.”

He snorts. Now he’s playing delivery boy, too. For Nasmeth, of all people.

“I hope he didn’t try to cook for the kids. They have it bad enough already with the move and the new school and everything… Worst thing is he puts so much heart into it but it still tastes so awful...” She rambles on as they enter a slightly larger wooden building. The Singing Arrow. 

The room is dimly lit by lanters hanging from the ceiling. A tauren is standing on a small stage, her soft singing adding to the relaxed atmosphere. 

“That’s Taurahe?”  
Sana’hat nods. “You don’t hear that often, do you?”

He shakes his head and follows her to a table.

The girl waiting the tables takes her time. He leans back, shifting a little in his seat to get a better look at the other patrons.

He spots Farstriders and Siame Quashi - at least he suspects them to be Siame Quashi based on the Amani heads dangling from their belts - occupying most of the seats. A few orcs, some Forsaken and Goblins, two Tauren. A lone Pandaren sits at the bar, slurping his soup. 

He frowns. No table manners, he can hear him from across the room. 

“You know, once things have settled down you should take a vacation. See the world a little. Beyond your duties, I mean.” Sana’hat says. 

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrows. “And where would you suggest I go?”

Sana’hat shrugs. “Thunder Buff is very relaxing. You seem like you could use that.”

“If you want me to relax stop bothering me.”

Sana’hat doesn’t respond - the waitress has finally decided to grace their table with her presence and Sana’hat is busy ordering. 

“Hey, Rommath, you heard that waitress talking? That was Suncrown dialect, I haven’t heard that in a while… Man, I swear I’ve heard Forsaken without a jaw speak more clearly than her…”

“Maybe if you’d spent more time in-”

“Yeah, whatever,” she cuts him off, “you know who else is from Suncrown? The whole Brightwing family! If you get Halduron drunk and angry enough…” She snorts. “Tahaalda is, too. How you tried to avoid looking at her the whole time!” 

He frowns. “I wasn’t-”

“Oh, you were!” She laughs. “Poor Tahaalda, with a face like that! When the Scourge rushed through her village she caught an axe right to the face! Split it right open! I remember her lying in Northern Sunfallen when I arrived and she was still there when I left… I wonder how she survived in the first place… She won’t tell me. She’s not a big talker, you know.”

“I don’t remember you to be one either, and here we are. Are you trying to lull me in?”

Sana’hat’s face suddenly changes. Her eyes harden and her smile turns into a broad grin, showing off her canines. 

“They say you hide something really ugly behind that mask as yours as well.” And before he can react she has already grabbed the fabric and pulled it off his face, revealing the scars he hides underneath.

“And here I thought you were missing your chin or something… That’s so you though, I bet you were glad you finally got a reason to hide your face all the time.”

He pulls the mask back instantly. How dare she! What does she know? About those scars? About the spell he didn’t - He wants to tell her to shut up but the rage feels like its constricting his throat. He is tensing up all over and he wants to set this whole place and her on fire, everything to make her regret ever-

“What’s wrong, Rommath? A little rogue got your throat?”

“Sana’hat!” He hears a deep yet feminine voice behind him. “Long time no see!”

Sana’hat’s gaze shifts and her face loses her malicious expression. Instead, she smiles now and greets the newcomer, but Rommath is still too angry to look who it is. 

He can feel the wire around his mouth, his neck, as the cursed Draenei bitch pulls tight. In front of him, he can see hundreds of men and women dead because of his failure. As if he hadn’t failed enough people already. 

“Rommath, you alright?”

He didn’t even notice how he’s been staring at the table. 

Sana’hat looks at him with big eyes, a worried expression on her face that he hasn’t seen in a long time. Even the she-orc next to her with her scarred face looks concerned.

He snarls. “Can we go now? I’ve wasted enough time here!”

“Pfff... “ Sana’hat rolls her eyes. “Typical… Anyways, this is Fasha, she’s Kor’kron.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize your show wasn’t over yet!”

“You think I’d bother that much just for you? Don’t flatter yourself, it’s a lucky coincidence.”

He musters the she-orc. She’s not wearing Kor’kron armor but a woolen dress with similar patterns to -

By the Sunwell, he is still wearing that thing. And sweating. What if his sweat losens the dried dirt and… He pulls the coat off quickly. 

But even putting it away doesn’t help. He can feel it in his neck, on his shoulders, all over his body. 

The she-orc laughs and he can feel his cheeks redden. Trust an orc to shame him for cleanliness.

“Any news from Orgrimmar?” Sana’hat asks switching to Orcish.

The she-orc shrugs. “You know how it is. That fucking kharan,” She spits. “I worked so hard to get where I am and now look at us, we’re a joke!” The she-orc talks faster, more angry. He can’t adjust to the new pace, to the fast flow of words, many of them unfamiliar to him. He can make out a few words and even one or two sentences - “Every idiot is wearing the plate nowadays”, “They are an embarrassment”, “Honor”, “Oath” and “Stuffed Cactus Apple”, but he’s pretty sure he misheard the last one. Maybe he should have gone to the Orcish practices more often. He gives up on following the fast conversation in Orcish, though he does notice how natural it seems to be for Sana’hat to talk this way. Of course it does - she has lived in Orgrimmar for years.

How odd. All those years that they have been apart, and only now does he realize that she isn’t the same person anymore - that he doesn’t know this Sana’hat at all. 

This is the same woman who grew up with him, who defended their country against the Scourge and who cried over her family’s demise just like he had - but she is also the woman who didn’t leave for Outland but helped rebuild their home, who left for Orgirmmar with a scoundrel, who fought against the Scourge in Northrend, who birthed two children and took in two others, who made friends and lost friends before he ever got to know them.

He’s not sure what to make of it. 

The fast talking comes to a halt when Sana’hat asks something. The she-orc’s gaze lowers. 

“It’s true,” she says, sadness slowing her words enough for him to understand. “They didn’t tell a thing though, I was there, they didn’t betray us. Even when all they had to do for a quick death was just give one name, they didn’t. They didn’t even look in my direction, even though I was right there, watching.”

Sana’hat nods, her face grim. “They have brought honor to themselves and to the Kor’kron.”

The mood has darkened irreparably and they are not looking at each other anymore. The she-orc’s eyes are fixated on the table while Sana’hat watches the waitress greet another group of guests.

“They are trying to get rid of us,” the she-orc says. “They are sending us on the suicide missions, to the front lines, so they can replace us with Malkorok’s lapdogs without anyone noticing. But we know… Not everybody will join, but nobody will betray us. Trust me on this.”

Sana’hat nods and after a while of silence the she-orc takes her leave. Shortly afterwards the waitress puts a bag on the table and he is forced to slip into that rancid coat again.

As they step into the dark streets he shudders. It's even colder now than it was before. He follows Sana’hat down the alley in silence. 

“A friend will open a portal to Silvermoon for us,” she says after a while. “I’m too drained to do it myself.”

He nods. “You have a lot of friends,” he states. For some reason she has always been popular. Back then he thought it might have been her good family name or her magical talent that made others flock to her, but her family name meant nothing now and due to her lazyness Sana’hat has never achieved much. Still, without any effort on her part, she was never lonely.

Not like he is. With Kael’thas - no, he can’t afford to go down that path. There are other, more pressing, matters to think about. The rebellion. 

“How many supporters do you have in Orgrimmar?” he asks.

Sana’hat shrugs. “Hard to say. Garrosh’s grip on the city is strong and it’s busting with his new Blackrock and Dragonmaw buddies. And a lot of young Orcs see him as some sort of savior who is going to lead them into a glorious future or some shit like that.”

“Can the other Orcs be trusted then?”

“You of all people should know better, Rommath.” She turns around and faces him but continues before he can even come up with a response. “There are many Orcs who would rather see their race die out than see their people make the same mistakes and become monsters again.”

That’s fine by him, he thinks but remains silent. As long as they don’t take the Sin’dorei with them.


End file.
